


Cold Bed

by lackingwxt



Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst, F/M, because i can't do shit without turning it to angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-26
Updated: 2015-05-26
Packaged: 2018-04-01 09:21:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4014343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lackingwxt/pseuds/lackingwxt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Imagine Person A of your OTP really getting attached by how warm Person B makes the bed when they fall asleep together/cuddle so when Person B comes home from some trip Person A yells at them because their bed was so cold.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold Bed

**Author's Note:**

> This was really just to get me back into the swing of things and wow I am so rusty. Forgive me. True to form, however, I made something incredably sweet, bittersweet. [Whoops](http://imagineyourotp.tumblr.com/post/86999143475/imagine-person-a-of-your-otp-really-getting).

She’s not surprised by how warm he is. No one is, really, at least no one who’s actually had the chance to cuddle up against him during the night. Once, when they were on a mission together as genin, they had fallen asleep under the sky, blessed by the shimmering stars. It’d been a warm night, with hardly a need for more than a thin blanket. She remembers having gone on and on with Naruto about the stars, how pretty they were, before falling asleep. Though they’d gone to bed with more than enough room between them, somehow all four of them had ended up curled around each other: Sasuke’s arm around her waist, Naruto snoring into her stomach, Kakashi coiled around them all protectively. The warm night grew hot as seven hells, sandwiched between them all.

Sasuke woke up first. Or, he thought he did. Sakura had been more than used to waking early on missions, but she hadn’t wanted to move — it was a rare occasion in which Sasuke held her  _affectionately_ , and she was going to suck up every bit of it she could, even if it was a thousand or so degrees. He untangled himself from the rest of them quietly, after taking his seconds to assess the situation. When she was little, Sakura had  _sworn_  she felt him take a deep breath of her hair, and inwardly huffed and puffed about him doing that  _then_ , when she hadn’t been able to wash her hair in days.

Then he went, scrambled around his bag for something — a tomato, Sakura guessed, because she heard him biting into something a little while after — and she went back to sleep. The sleep-pile had grown about seventy degrees cooler, and even though she’d been sweating her little heart out with Sasuke so close by, she missed him being near

That’s the most prominent memory she has of him being so warm when they were children. Sure there are more — they were on a team together for a lot of missions, and they had a habit of cuddling in their sleep when they weren’t in different tents. 

So no, it isn’t such a surprise that he’s so warm. The surprise is that everything else is so  _cold_. That no matter how many blankets she piles on herself in the middle of the night, no matter how she positions her body pillow, she can’t get the same effect. It all feels sweltering, near heatstroke temperatures, not the comfortable, strong warmth that Sasuke provides by simply being near. She’s  _tired_  of waking up at two in the morning, either shivering or dehydrating, when she has to wake up at four to go to the hospital. Actually, she’s tired of doing that even when she doesn’t have to work.

Sakura fluffs the pillow in her hands with a  _little_  more oomph than necessary; the stitching rips. Her lip curls. How many damn pillows are going to be sacrificed? Too many, probably. The pillow is thrown to the corner of her bedroom with two others. Maybe she shouldn’t do housework when she’s upset. Actually, maybe she shouldn’t do anything when she’s upset. She doesn’t think the walls can handle her throwing things at them. Dry-wall is harder to fix than she originally thought.

“That’s the sixth pillow.”

She humphs, readjusting the pillows to fill the bed. It’s  _also_  not a surprise that she was too preoccupied with pillows to open the door for her husband. He has a key, anyway. “No, it’s only the third.” Her voice is sharper than usual. She points a finger to the pile of three —  _yes, Uchiha Sasuke, three_  — pillows in the corner. 

Sasuke moves to collect the cushions. Downy feathers sputter out of the pillows, forcing him to adjust them so the ripped parts face upward. “I meant collectively.” One of them is more cloth than pillow; if it could bruise, it would have already. What the hell did Sakura  _do_  to it? Poor thing. 

His wife scowls. It’s a terrifying expression, and Sasuke fears for the life of a seventh pillow. Sakura pulls the blanket up to cover the bed. He was right. The first time he left, she was making the bed and murdered two pillows. Then she killed one. And now three. Well, at least all that time away hasn’t hurt his basic math skills. 

“Tell me.” He was going to toss out the pillows, but instead he puts them back in the corner he found them, and goes to sit on the freshly made bed. He’s become a literal sitting duck. 

Sakura’s arms cross, muscles twitching. There are bags under those gorgeous green eyes. Were he a lesser man, he would run away right then. “It’s  _cold_  when you’re gone, Sasuke!” The anger in her voice is equal with the desperation. Her scowl deepens when she hears it. “It’s cold, and no matter how many blankets and pillows I put on the damn bed, it never gets any better! I  _hate_  the cold. I haven’t gotten a good night’s sleep in days and I’m  _tired_ , damn it.” 

Sasuke reaches out to her, a hand curling around her wrist. She doesn’t resist when he pulls her closer. She really  _is_  tired; her balance sways, and she falls onto his lap. A sigh leaves her when his arms circle around her, his chin resting on her head. He’s not stupid — he’s Uchiha Sasuke, and she’s Uchiha Sakura, and he  _knows_ her better than anyone else on the planet, no matter how many times she confuses him. No matter how many times she takes his breath away and makes him wonder how he got so  _fucking lucky_ , he knows her.

“I missed you too, Sakura.”

There are tears in Sakura’s eyes. Sasuke doesn’t have to look at her to know. She buries her head into his chest, fists knotted in his shirt. “You were gone for a month, Sasuke. A month. That’s three more weeks than usual.”

He dips his chin to kiss her hair, maneuvering his way to the backboard of the bed with Sakura in his arms. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t even send a message or anything. Do you know how worried I was?” The anger’s back.

Sasuke winces; she’s right, as usual. He could have said something, somehow. The mission hadn’t been a secret. She could have known. It’s still so weird to him, to think that there’s someone somewhere who is worrying about him. That there’s someone in his very own bedroom, with his very own surname, tearing pillows to shreds because she has no idea what else to do.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers into her hair again, clutching her closer to him.

Sakura relaxes. She’s tired, and he’s warm, and he’s back. Later, she’ll yell at him better. Right now, she curls tighter into his arms. “I’m going to kill you later.”

A smirk kicks the side of Sasuke’s lips up. There she is, his Sakura. “I know.”

She yawns, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he says, kissing her forehead before she falls asleep.


End file.
